


Songbird

by izzybelledot



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Darryl Noveschosch Needs a Hug, Demon Darryl Noveschosch, Demons, Drabble, Drawing, Dubious Comofort, Fear, Gen, Good Darryl Noveschosch, Good Friend Darryl Noveschosch, Hell, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Idk i just like their dynamic?, Introspection, Kind of ignoring the timeline of the Egg arc in this, Kinda, Suicidal TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Trauma, but he's supposed to be off so its fine, kinda shitty ngl, maybe ooc Tommy, story telling, strange shifting pov, they're trying their best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29703198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzybelledot/pseuds/izzybelledot
Summary: "What's hell like?"<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>Tommy has a question for Bad, and his motives aren't as hidden as he thought.
Relationships: BadBoyHalo & TommyInnit, Darryl Noveschosch & TommyInnit
Comments: 26
Kudos: 351





	Songbird

“What's hell like?”

Bad blinked, shooting Tommy an incredulous look over his shoulder. Tommy was sitting at his table, a glass of water clenched between his palms while Bad was watching a muffin batch bake in the furnace. He hadn’t expected Tommy to show up out of nowhere to talk to him, especially since he and Tommy hadn’t exactly been close. But when Tommy had shown up in the middle of the night, Bad hadn't hesitated to let him in. He hadn't done much other than stare at the table for the past ten minutes though.

“That's a bit of a random question, Tommy.”

“I know,” Tommy grumbled. “But I’m curious. You don't have to say if you won’t want to, I just figured I’d ask.”

Bad considered him for another moment, noting how distant Tommy really seemed from this moment. Tommy had been like that more and more lately, seeming like he wasn’t always quite there- like he was somewhere else entirely. somewhere Bad knew couldn’t be healthy from the slight trembling of his fingers against his glass or the increased agitation on other days. “Okay, um…”

Tommy's head was still ducked, so Bad elected to pull out a notepad and quill. He didn’t draw especially often, but it was a calming thing to do when he was trying to remember stuff. It gave him something to focus him in the present. “It’s like the nether, but it’s more intense. You wouldn’t be able to see anything, but demons can see each other. Your skin feels like it's itching constantly, and you can never seem to get enough air.”

He wasn’t looking at Tommy anymore, focusing on the feel of the quill between his fingers. He focused on widening a line out, curving it slightly with the others. “There isn’t much flat land, more like outcroppings along the sides of a great downwards tunnel. It's strangely ordered, most refer to them as the endless rings. They keep going farther and farther down. I’ve never met anyone who reached the bottom, or anyone who wanted to go higher like I did.”

The quill ran out of ink, but he couldn’t seem to open the inkpot. Tommy wordlessly reached out, taking the pot from his hands to twist it open. Bad whispered his thanks before dipping in the quill and waiting for the excess to run off. 

“It feels like you’re always about to get burned. But that's not really the thing you’re afraid of. When you’re down there, you’re more scared of other demons,” He shifted back in his seat to judge his sketch. It was a bit sloppy, with stuttering lines, but it was clear. “The closer to the bottom you get, the more dangerous. That's where the overlords go, they conquer as many different layers as possible to get rid of the itch. The higher you get, the worse the itch, so I was alone a lot. It feels like dying every second of every day, and the only way out is… challenging.”

Challenging meaning that you would have to claw at the dust above you, constantly on the verge of passing out from the lack of oxygen or collapsing from the strong itching just under your skin. Challenging in that he'd nearly torn part of his wrist off in a mindless effort to stop the itch. Because demons weren't supposed to go so high, supposed to get close to anything _good._ But he didn't clarify, he knew Tommy had enough bad memories to reflect on already.

Bad knew there was plenty of trauma on the server, boiling over and splashing onto the good intentions of others. But despite the trauma he saw in everyone, he hadn’t seen many trying to fix their trauma. Fundy had done well in leaving the land for a while to recuperate, and Bad admired him for it- but he was the only one to truly attempt healing in a healthy or consistent way.

He thought that on some level; he understood what Tommy might be feeling. At least when he asked Bad the question. His brother’s happy ghost roaming around the server and the sudden drop from Dream finally being defeated couldn’t be good for his mental health. 

“There aren’t many demons in hell who don’t like being there in a way, aside from the demon-borns like me they all enjoyed violence and harm enough so that the itching and burning and dark is worth it. That's how you get to hell, not by some little mistakes or misplaced intentions. No griefing of a house or saying obnoxious swearing is gonna get you there,” Bad said. His voice was low and empathetic, but he still saw Tommy flinch. He didn’t look up from the drawing before him, he wasn’t working on it though.

"I just-" Tommy's voice came dangerously close to cracking, but Bad didn't mention it. "I've made so many mistakes. If anyone here deserved-"

"No."

The silence stretched between them for a moment before Bad sighed. "You're not the bad guy, Tommy. You've made mistakes, but you've always tried your best to fix them. I don't know where you'd go after this life, but it's not hell. You don't deserve to go there."

"Neither did you."

Bad took a deep breath, mindful to not let himself spiral. That had always been something he couldn't ignore- him being born in hell. He didn't know why demons could be born rather than passed from the overworld. He didn't know if the born demons deserved to be there if he had broken something in escaping. if he had escaped justice. There wasn't a way to really know, ad no matter how hard he may try to be kind he knew that somehow he had been born into literal hell.

"I don't know that, but I know you don't deserve to go there. Trust me on this," Bad replied evenly. He glanced up at Tommy finding understanding blue eyes staring back. He smiled a bit, setting down the quill. 

"You're um," Tommy looked down again for a moment. "You're crying, Badboyhalo."

"Oh," He breathed out, clawed hands drifting to the fur on his checks to find the damp fur. "I guess I am."

“BBH, you don’t have to-“

“It’s okay,” He muttered. He swiped at his eyes for a moment, the skin on the back of his hands flattening out a bit. He looked up again, finding Tommy's hand partially outstretched in indecision. Bad just smiled at him, screwing the top onto the inkpot and wiping off the quill. “I don’t know what these wars or your exiles have been like for you. I do know that you haven’t been given enough support. But you’re not going to hell, Tommy. And I don’t think you’d want to be a ghost either.”

“Why not,” Tommy muttered. “They’d like me better like that, wouldn’t they?”

Bad felt his throat clench, anger pooling in him. He didn’t raise his voice, claws digging into his hands beneath the table to keep himself there. This was an important moment, a moment that Tommy might remember the next time he was stuck in these thoughts. One that Bad wanted Tommy to remember with clarity and hope for the future. "You have worth outside of what others think of you, Tommy. And I know I'd miss you."

Tommy's hesitant expression dug into him, but Bad just waited. "You would?"

Bad hummed affirmatively in response, reaching out to squeeze Tommy's hand for a moment before standing to pull the muffins from the oven. Some of them towards the back were a bit darker than he would have liked, but they came out alright all things considered. He set them on a towel to cool, mentally trying to remember if he had anything planned for the next day. "I may not know much about the afterlife Tommy- not the ones you would experience, but I have a guess. Or not a guess so much as hope I guess but hope is nice."

Tommy chuckled lightly behind him, voice fond. "What's your hope, Bad?"

"I hope you would become a songbird," Bad replied. "So you could fly around and bring your music with you wherever you went. So you wouldn't have to fight in wars, so you could have peace. I don't know if that's what happened, but I think it's nice to think about."

Bad turned around, finding Tommy with a small smile. His hands were atop each other, but relaxed. "I like your hope, BBH."

Bad smiled at him brightly, scooping a muffin onto a napkin. "Do you want to sleep over? The guest room's still open, and I can even call Tubbo and ask if he wants to run over."

"It's a bit late," Tommy replied with another half-laugh. "I should probably get home."

"Alright, here just take this."

Bad tore the paper from the book, taking care not to crinkle it as he handed it to Tommy along with the muffin. Tommy took it hesitantly, eyes softening and smile widening at the sketch. It wasn't anything especially majestic or precise. It was what Tommy assumed was a songbird, perched on a wooden bench that dwarfed it in size. 

Before he knew it, a cloak was clasped around his shoulders. A bit too heavy and big but warm and comfortable. Bad smiled at him brightly, pushing two muffins into his hand along with the drawing as he walked him outside. "You're welcome anytime, of course! But next time shoot me a message on your communicator so I can start hot chocolate too. If you have any trouble sleeping I could give you a recipe for a sleeping draught? it's not really a potion, more like a tea- but it's really relaxing."

"Thanks, Bad."

Bad just giggled, squeezing his arm lightly before dropping his arm back to his side. "See you later, little songbird."


End file.
